


Love, Deconstructed

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Asexuality, Established Relationship, M/M, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-30
Updated: 2009-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in love and making love don't always go hand in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Deconstructed

**Author's Note:**

> _Runner Up Best Angst at the Heroes Slash Awards Summer 2009_

"Gabriel?" Mohinder asks, smiling shyly when Gabriel looks up from his book.

He holds out his hand, the small blue pill held between thumb and forefinger as he offers it to Gabriel. Mohinder shifts his weight from foot to foot, ignoring the rising swell of apprehension in his gut that always comes, no matter how routine this ritual has become, at the possibility that Gabriel might, this once, reject him. He keeps the smile on his face, even as the seconds stretch on and it starts to feel false, the corners of his mouth faltering as he resists the urge to duck his head in the face of Gabriel's narrow-eyed gaze.

Mohinder refuses to feel ashamed for what he wants and _needs_. Yet, he seems hyperaware of the book that Gabriel still holds in his hands, of the bright, garish dust-jacket that flashes in his peripheral vision and makes his hand shake as he holds out the pill. Mohinder's desire is tempered with guilt as he asks Gabriel to put away his own pleasures and minister to Mohinder's. Gabriel's eyes flicker from the Viagra to Mohinder's face to the glass of water that Mohinder holds in his other hand, in the expectation, the hope that the answer will be _yes_.

Gabriel nods his head and puts his book aside, carefully marking his page. He removes his glasses and folds them up, placing them neatly beside the spine of the book before turning back to Mohinder and opening his mouth wide. Mohinder breathes a soundless sigh of relief and pushes his fingers between Gabriel's lips, dropping the pill on Gabriel's tongue as Gabriel's soft, plump lips tighten around his fingers.

When Mohinder pulls his hand away, Gabriel sucks at his fingers, scraping lightly with his teeth along the length of them as they escape his mouth and Mohinder's thighs tremble at the feel of Gabriel's strong tongue pressing up against him, darting between his fingers to wet them. He hooks the tips of his fingers on Gabriel's bottom lip and massages the pliant flesh, moaning at the feel of Gabriel's too-dry, almost chapped skin. Mohinder strokes Gabriel's cheek with his knuckles, and when he takes the water glass from Mohinder's hand, taking a sip and swallowing the drug, Mohinder bends at the waist to lovingly kiss his forehead.

Mohinder watches Gabriel's throat ripple as he swallows, the gulp loud in their still apartment, where there are no sounds in the air but Mohinder's heavy breathing. He traces his fingers from Gabriel's chin to the hollow of his throat, rolling his fingers over Gabriel's bobbing Adam's apple as he chases the pill with his touch. There's a gentle _clink_ of glass on glass as Gabriel sets the water down upon the coffee table, safely to the side and out of their way.

Mohinder runs his fingers through Gabriel's hair, pushing thick, unruly locks from his eyes as Gabriel nuzzles against his stomach. Mohinder's hands lace around his head and hold him close, cradling Gabriel against his body. His breath is hot and damp, ghosting through the fabric of Mohinder's t-shirt to warm the skin below.

Gabriel's hands find his hips and settle there. The touch doesn't mean anything. It promises nothing more, and Mohinder knows that Gabriel is simply finding purchase against him as they hug, Mohinder standing and Gabriel seated on the sofa. But still, Mohinder's fingers stutter as they twine in Gabriel's dark hair and his hips hitch forward of their own accord. Gabriel sighs, softly, near-silently, resigned, as Mohinder's cock, trapped, thick and heavy, within his sweatpants, brushes against the curve of his neck. And, although Mohinder knows it is a sound he wasn't meant to hear, he finds himself apologising, wordlessly, anyway. A thumb skating comfortingly over Gabriel's temple; long fingers curling around the base of his neck as Mohinder pulls him nearer and embraces him tighter: Mohinder lets Gabriel languish in all the types of touch and intimacy that he prefers in penance for the unconscious demands Mohinder's body makes of him.

Mohinder's been hard since he popped that little blue diamond from the blister pack, with the familiar sound of tearing foil and plastic crumpling. And maybe he should have simply locked the bathroom door, lowered his pants and stroked himself off, biting his cheek as he came in the sink, white striping on white as his semen splattered against the porcelain. But, it's been two weeks. Two weeks stretching into three and Mohinder isn't sure how much more masturbation he can take before his wrist locks up and he's rubbed himself raw. Mohinder caved, like he always caves, no matter how fiercely he resolves that next time he will wait for Gabriel to make the first move.

In all the years they've been together, Gabriel hasn't once come to him. He has never laid his hand on Mohinder's thigh in a way that begged for more, and he has never pulled Mohinder to him, kissed him, rough and hard and passionate, consumed with lust. Mohinder knows that Gabriel has never felt a lust for anything but power, and he tries to not take Gabriel's persistent indifference to sex as a personal slight. Gabriel had been this way long before they met, and he would be this way long after Mohinder was gone, dead while Gabriel faced eternity immortal.

And so, despite his guilt and despite how much Mohinder wishes that once, just once, Gabriel would reach for him out of desire, not duty, Mohinder has learned to ask for what he needs, or risk never having his needs fulfilled. In all the years they've been together, Gabriel hasn't once denied him, because while their sex drives might be unbalanced, there's nothing one-sided about their love.

Gabriel turns his head to the side, resting his temple against Mohinder's hip as his hand finds Mohinder's erection and his fingers mould around it. Mohinder watches as Gabriel strokes him through the fabric of his sweatpants. He watches as Gabriel seems to measure his length and width with his fingers, as he seeks out the head and traces down the underside, all the while a slight frown of concentration on his face.

Gabriel presses his palm to the muffled heat of Mohinder's cock, skin separated from skin by the thick cotton of the layers of his clothing, but Mohinder knows that he can feel Mohinder's blood as it pulses, that he can feel the way Mohinder hardens more and lengthens further with his gentle caresses. He knows because he can see the way Gabriel squints, near-sighted, at Mohinder's cock before him and he can tell from the frown that tugs at the corners of Gabriel's eyes that he's trying once more to understand what to Mohinder seems as uncomplicated as the beat of his heart or the breath on his lips.

Gabriel, a man for whom no power is a mystery, cannot see how love and lust can intertwine, even as his hand works between Mohinder's thighs. It's not the physical that eludes him. Gabriel is a man too and he knows the biological pleasures of friction and release, but he is disconnected from the leap Mohinder's mind and body makes when becoming aroused by another human being. Mohinder knows that aesthetically, Gabriel finds him appealing. He knows that Gabriel loves him more than any man or woman before has loved him, but he also knows that sexually, Gabriel is wired incapable of ever being aroused by him. By anyone.

And, as Gabriel touches him, Mohinder doesn't say "I'm sorry," although the words are pressing at his lips. The pill has already been swallowed and this compromise that gives neither of them what they truly want is the bitter aftertaste they both must bear. If he says the words, apologises for wanting this so badly, it's harder to pretend that what Gabriel can give him is enough. It's harder to fool himself that underneath Gabriel's carefully calculated touches, those learned manoeuvres that bring Mohinder off and give Gabriel the distance he needs in order to do this, that maybe, just maybe, there's a flicker of real desire within him.

Mohinder keeps stroking Gabriel's hair, from crown to nape, over and over, ruffling the tufts at the base of his skull and trying desperately to push aside the heavy weight that settles over him, because love should be enough. Gabriel loves Mohinder as he has done everything in his life, from watch repair to the acquisition of abilities, single-mindedly and with a fierce intensity that borders on obsession. Mohinder knows that is selfish, and spoiled, and churlish of him to ask for _more_ in the face of such devotion, but he needs physical intimacy as much as Gabriel dislikes it.

So, Mohinder doesn't ask, except when not asking becomes so much like torture it feels as if he could die from it and when asked, Gabriel performs without complaint, masking his distaste so well that if Mohinder shuts his eyes, then what they do is almost enough. He never says "I'm sorry" because he knows the only reply would be "I'm sorry too".

Gabriel's fingers wind around the drawstring of his sweats and he tugs them open, sliding his hands down Mohinder's thighs until the fabric falls and pools around his ankles. Mohinder peels his own boxer-briefs back. He lets Gabriel recede a little, press his forehead to Mohinder's thigh until the richness of Mohinder's scent, sweat and pre-come ingrained in the cotton of his underwear, his musk trapped in the hot, muggy air around his cock, dissipates in the room around them.

He caresses Gabriel's face as he waits, ignoring as much as he can the heaviness in his balls and the teasing curl of Gabriel's breath against his skin. His thumb strokes a regular path along eyebrows, chin, cheek bone and stubble, feeling out the contours of Gabriel's expression until Mohinder feels the clench in his jaw relax.

"Do you want me to…?" Gabriel asks, leaning towards his straining cock, looking up at Mohinder with earnest eyes so eager to please.

"Only if you want to," Mohinder whispers.

"I want to," Gabriel murmurs after a moment's hesitation. As he kisses the tip of Mohinder's cock, lips stretching, damp and artful around his width, Mohinder tells himself that "I want to" meant "I want you" and not "I want to please you".

Sometimes, Gabriel's words are more difficult to hear, when a lazy, indifferent shrug of the shoulders is all Mohinder gets, and Gabriel stares up at him, demanding, _yes or no, tell me what you want_. Those times, when Gabriel puts up no façade that Mohinder can hide behind, when his selfishness and baser desires are laid bare between them, then, Mohinder doesn't let Gabriel choose. "Yes," he'll say, if what he needs, what he's been missing, is the feel of a mouth, hot, wet and tight around his cock and the contrition in his voice will do nothing to mask that his words are an order.

But today they're playing make believe and their every action is infused with "I wish"; Mohinder wishing he didn't need this and Gabriel wishing that he needed it too. And most of all, there's an unspoken agreement between them that today they'll both pretend that this is real instead of simply wishing, both knowing that at times like these this compromise they've crafted is more brittle and precarious than when they brazenly lay out their fears and doubts and inadequacies for each other to see.

Mohinder allows himself to get lost in the feel of Gabriel's lips around him. He bobs his head, slow and steady, one hand wrapped firm around Mohinder's base to stop himself from dipping too far and choking. A strong tongue drags up Mohinder's underside, rasping along the raised line of the thick vein there and tapping a steady pattern at that spot below the head.

"That's good," Mohinder moans as Gabriel pulls back to breathe, slurping down the wetness collecting in his mouth.

He smiles up at Mohinder, a small smile to be sure, but genuine, honestly pleased to have pleased Mohinder. He swills some of the water in his mouth, warding off a build-up of Mohinder's taste on his palate before curling forward again. He yanks Mohinder towards him by the hips as he lowers his head, enveloping Mohinder's dick down as deep as he can and holding him there, the muscles of his throat and the back of his tongue fluttering around Mohinder's tip until Gabriel gags a little and has to draw back once more.

It's a cruel thing, Mohinder thinks, that Gabriel should be so masterful at something that he derives no pleasure from. But, he supposes, without the haze of his own arousal to wade through, Gabriel has been able to concentrate on what makes Mohinder gasp and moan and plead until he sucks Mohinder off more skilfully than anyone Mohinder has ever been with.

Sometimes, Mohinder thinks, Gabriel is too good for his own good, because when Mohinder's head falls back and the hands in his hair cease to stroke and start to clench and tug, Mohinder finds it too easy to forget that Gabriel doesn't want this too. His hips rock forward, shallow at first, but gaining in speed and force as he pulls Gabriel's face towards him, pulling and pushing until his mind catches up to what his body is doing and a leaden weight lands in his gut at the knowledge that he has abused Gabriel's selflessness to fuck his mouth.

Mohinder draws back until his cock pops free from Gabriel's slack lips, unable to help the way the head lurches messily down his chin, leaving a slick smear of spit and pre-come over Gabriel's stubble. And this time, he does say "I'm sorry," because what he's done hasn't been fair at all, and if Gabriel wants to say "I don't want to do this" after all then it's no more than what Mohinder deserves.

Instead, Gabriel just shakes his head.

"It's ok," he says and when he stands, sliding his hands under the hem of Mohinder's t-shirt and tugging it over his head, Mohinder lifts his arms gratefully. They hug, Mohinder nude and Gabriel fully clothed, Gabriel's face buried in the crook of Mohinder's neck as he blindly walks them backwards towards their bedroom.

"I love you," he whispers into Mohinder's shoulder.

"I love you too," Mohinder breathes into his ear. When Gabriel lifts his head, they kiss, close mouthed and chaste, noses nuzzling together until the rough weave of Gabriel's trousers is too much against Mohinder's cock, and he whines, breathlessly, against Gabriel's lips.

Gabriel pushes him gently by the shoulders, guiding him back upon the bed and crawling between his spread thighs.

"Wait," Mohinder pants as Gabriel circles his hand around his cock and angles it towards his mouth. He can feel Gabriel's breath land, hot and damp, against his leaking tip and it takes all of Mohinder's self-control not to press at the base of his skull again, encouraging him despite his words to duck his head and suck his dick once more.

"Take your clothes off. Please," he adds when Gabriel hesitates.

Mohinder shuffles up the bed, propping himself on his elbows against the headboard as Gabriel nods and, with a modesty that Mohinder always finds simultaneously comical and tragic, turns his back and strips quickly.

When he faces Mohinder, his cock is still flaccid. It's not that the Viagra hasn't had time to work. It's that the Viagra only works if Gabriel is aroused and for all that this is foreplay for Mohinder, Gabriel's getting nothing from it.

He clamours onto the bed beside Mohinder and they both slide beneath the covers. Gabriel cuddles up to him, resting his head on Mohinder's shoulder and Mohinder kisses the top of his head, running his hands soothingly over Gabriel's back as Gabriel works his arms around his ribs and embraces him tightly. Gabriel sighs happily at the feel of the kneading hands on his shoulders and at the fingers that stroke the hinge of his jaw. He turns his head to the side and peppers impish, light kisses on Mohinder's chest because Gabriel isn't unaffectionate, far from it.

Gabriel preens under a touch like this, intimate and loving but with nothing sexual about it. He revels in being petted, liking nothing more than to curl up with his head on Mohinder's lap or shoulder, Mohinder's fingers raking through his hair. He's demanding in his need for attention, almost to the point of clinginess. He lilts into Mohinder's personal space, begging unconsciously for casual touches to his arms and hips and back as they pass in the hallways or meet in the kitchen.

And sometimes, when he reaches for Mohinder in the night, wanting to swathe himself around Mohinder's torso as they sleep, Mohinder has to push him away as kindly as he can. Because, when Gabriel touches him or arches into him for affection, there's only so far that Gabriel wants to go and sometimes, the tease is too much for Mohinder to bear.

Mohinder hooks his finger under Gabriel's jaw and tilts his head so their lips can meet. He licks along the seam of Gabriel's lips and they part slowly to his kiss. Gabriel lets him cup his neck with his palm. He lets himself be pulled up and pushed down so that his head is on the pillows, sinking back into them under the force of Mohinder's kiss as Mohinder stretches out over him. He swallows Mohinder's moans and he lets Mohinder's tongue skim along the topography of his mouth.

But when Mohinder's hips drop down, grinding, rough and messy, against his thigh and Mohinder's breath hitches until he's stealing Gabriel's from his lips, then, Gabriel turns his face away and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ok?" Mohinder asks, still panting from the broken kiss.

"Mmm," Gabriel hums, pulling Mohinder down so that their foreheads rest together. Their lips are touching again, but this time, Mohinder doesn't try to kiss him, contenting himself with the residual taste and smell and feel of Gabriel still lingering in his mouth.

With a hand on his thigh, Gabriel nudges Mohinder to the side until he settles on one elbow, head propped up on his palm as his fingers tease through Gabriel's chest hair. Gabriel's eyes settle on the wall opposite, his gaze unfocussed, staring into the middle-distance as he grasps his cock. He's covered by the sheets but Mohinder knows that Gabriel will easily become erect, his dick responding to direct stimulation where kissing and groping haven't succeeded.

He nestles his face against Gabriel's neck and bites his tongue to keep himself from asking what Gabriel is thinking about, always hoping the answer will be a breathless _you_ and always knowing that the answer will be a truthful _nothing_.

It's not sensible and it's more demanding that Mohinder usually is, but tonight, he can't help it when his fingers meander downwards following the path of hair from Gabriel's chest over his abdomen, pausing only as they settle low on his belly.

"May I?" he asks, closing his eyes to the sight of Gabriel chewing his lips, squirming uncomfortably as he's asked to decide where his limits lie today.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Yeah, I guess that's ok."

It's hardly a ringing endorsement but it's not the outright "no" that Mohinder was expecting so he slides his hand down further and grasps Gabriel's half-hard cock. The skin of his dick is still loose enough to move as Mohinder flicks his wrist. He does this so rarely that he finds he doesn't really know how Gabriel likes to be touched so he touches him as he likes to be touched himself, grip firm and quick, thumb feathering over the tip. And he must be doing something right, because Gabriel is growing harder on his palm and Mohinder moans against him, at the heat of him and the heft of him, at having a cock in his hand that isn't his own.

But as Gabriel's dick stiffens, so does his body. Gabriel gets tenser and tenser as Mohinder strokes him until a pitiful whimper escapes his lips in a rush of air. He looks at Mohinder guiltily and Mohinder knows that he has been trying, trying desperately for Mohinder's sake, to hide his discomfit at being touched like this, so Mohinder pretends not to notice. He pumps Gabriel a few more times, and then pulls his hand away as if of his own accord, letting Gabriel keep the pretence that Mohinder's touch has been welcome, and pleasurable in more than just the strictest biological sense.

They lie side by side on the pillows, and Mohinder strokes his own cock as it starts to wane, his arousal abating in the midst of the fog of guilt and insecurity that seems to hang between them.

"I love you," Gabriel whispers as he kisses Mohinder's cheek. He fumbles in the bedside table, handing Mohinder a condom and a bottle of lube, pressing both against his palm when Mohinder doesn't immediately take them.

"It's ok, Mohinder," he insists. "It's ok that you want this."

"I know…" Mohinder shrugs. "I just wish you wanted it too."

Gabriel smiles at him sadly. He tucks a stray curl behind Mohinder's ear and then pulls him down so that their lips can meet. Before they can kiss, Mohinder murmurs, "You don't have to."

Gabriel grunts at him in annoyance and takes the condom from Mohinder's hand. He rips the foil open with more force than necessary, sending the rolled disc flying, landing with a slap against his stomach.

It's nothing. A small clumsy moment that happens to every couple, everywhere, every day of the week but the sheer normality of it is all it takes the break the tension. They chuckle stupidly, watching the condom rise and fall with Gabriel's stomach as they laugh. This time, when Gabriel pulls him down, Mohinder doesn't question the quick, sloppy kiss he leaves on his lips or the more lingering one that he presses to Mohinder's cheek.

"Let's do this," Gabriel says with a tilt of his head and curve of his lips, as he hitches up his legs. But Mohinder stops him.

"Like this," he says as he gives Gabriel the condom and pushes Gabriel's hand towards his own cock.

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asks with confusion in his voice. As rare as it that Gabriel and Mohinder make love, it's rarer still that Mohinder asks Gabriel to top. But tonight, he can't bear to push and tease his way inside a body that doesn't really want him there.

"Yes," Mohinder assures him, lubing his fingers and crouching up on the bed to stretch himself as if in confirmation.

Gabriel looks as if he's about to speak but merely frowns a little instead, obediently rolling on the condom and slicking his cock. He doesn't watch as Mohinder's fingers probe his own asshole. He curls one hand around Mohinder's ankle, brushing his thumb over the rise of the top of his foot in time to the sound of Mohinder's groans but otherwise, his gaze roams the room.

Maybe it's cowardly, and maybe he's only hurting himself by wallowing in denial, but when he's prepped himself as much as he needs to, Mohinder rises up on his hands and knees and he tries to ignore Gabriel's grunt of confusion as Gabriel gets into position behind him.

Tonight, Mohinder's emotions feel stretched too thin to expose himself to the full force of Gabriel's expression, knowing him well enough to see every crack in the mask of pleasure that he puts on for Mohinder's sanity. He doesn't want to stare into Gabriel's eyes and see them flicker as his mind wanders to anything and everything except what it is they're doing. He doesn't want to have to shut his own eyes to the moment that Gabriel's expression falters and to know that if not for the Viagra in a his blood, keeping him hard while his interest fades, that that would be the moment that Gabriel's cock would have softened enough to slip from him, leaving them both dissatisfied.

Gabriel pushes into him, in a long, slow, deep thrust that stretches him out and leaves him gasping for air. When Gabriel groans, Mohinder's body quakes with the sound and the muscles of his ass tighten around Gabriel's cock to hear him moan again. With his back to Gabriel's face, Mohinder lets himself believe, just this once, that Gabriel is crying out for him.

It's up to Mohinder to set the pace and lift and lower his hips until he finds the angle he needs for Gabriel's cock to drag over his prostate with every stroke, but Gabriel willingly matches the rhythm. His hands cling to Mohinder's hips, his grip slipping where sweat beads on their skin and it's Mohinder's hand that wraps around Mohinder's cock.

Mohinder has never questioned why Gabriel will suck him off as long as he can spit or pull away when Mohinder comes, with just a glass of water on hand to rinse his mouth as needed, but stroking Mohinder's cock, having come smeared, hot and sticky, over his palm is beyond what Gabriel is willing to do. He simply accepts the boundary and doesn't push, because this is what they've got and the only way that they can be happy is to work with it and not constantly pine for what they can't have.

Mohinder can't last long. Two weeks verging on three weeks without being touched is too long for him to hold himself back and, at the back of his mind, he knows that Gabriel prefers it when things end sooner rather than later. He reaches a hand back and grabs Gabriel's hips, urging him to thrust in as deep and as hard as he can and Mohinder bucks backwards, a rapid fire wash of pleasure hurtling from his gut to his chest, pushing him over the edge into orgasm.

He strokes himself down, and his nails dig into Gabriel's skin, keeping him deep within himself as he flutters with aftershocks around Gabriel's still hard cock. When every last shudder of pleasure has been wrung from his body, Mohinder collapses forward, pulling himself off Gabriel's dick, landing with his stomach pressed to the sticky sheets below him.

Gabriel flops on his back beside him. He pushes Mohinder's sweat-mussed hair back from his eyes with one hand, as with the other he wrestles the condom from his erection.

"S'good," Mohinder murmurs, sleepy and sated, as he kisses up Gabriel's shoulder and settles against him.

"Yeah," Gabriel replies. Mohinder knows that he's lying, but it's a white lie and done with good intentions and Mohinder hasn't the energy anymore to feel guilty that he might be using Gabriel somehow when he asks this of him.

They're still panting, Gabriel with the physical exertion and Mohinder with his release and Mohinder watches Gabriel's cock bounce between his legs.

"Do you want to come?" he ventures, hopeful fingers sneaking down Gabriel's torso but Gabriel covers his hand with own and presses it flat to his abdomen as he shakes his head.

"Unless, you want me to?" Gabriel amends, casting a sidelong glance at Mohinder. There's a hint of apprehension in his tone, and Mohinder knows that though he's offered, he doesn't really want Mohinder to milk an orgasm from him.

"No. No, it's ok," he whispers, kissing Gabriel's forehead reassuringly. "That was good. Really good." _Good enough_, he thinks.

They hold each other until the sweat on their skin cools and the come on Mohinder's stomach starts to pull as it dries.

"I'm gonna shower, ok?" Gabriel eventually says and Mohinder lets him wriggle away after one final kiss.

"Coming?" he asks but Mohinder shakes his head. He doesn't want to give up, yet, the wetness of the lube inside him or their combined scent on his skin, and more than anything, he wants to give Gabriel the space he needs to recover. Mohinder wants to give him the privacy to jerk off and dispel the effects of the Viagra if that's what he wants to do or to just be able to clean himself without worrying that Mohinder might take offence at the vigorous manner in which he scrubs away all trace of Mohinder's touch.

Mohinder grabs his hand, his pinkie hooking around Gabriel's and stopping him in his tracks. "I love you, Gabriel."

"I know. I love you too." He smiles and bends to kiss Mohinder's pinkie still curled around his own before Mohinder releases him and lets him walk away.

And maybe this isn't making love, but it is love and love is enough.


End file.
